The Numbers
by Harris547
Summary: A mysterious number that shows up in your contacts all on its own, that can send you messages containing secrets you were keeping even from yourself. To some, it sounds like something out of a crappy campfire story. To others, the work of skilled cyber-criminals. And to a select few... It's the only way to make a difference in the world.


**The Numbers**

There was someone new at the café.

Sojiro had told her about him taking someone in, but that had been during one of her… episodes, so her memory of the details was foggy at best. Still, she knew this new person had a criminal record, mostly because Sojiro wouldn't stop reminding him of it as they talked. Well, Sojiro talked, the new guy just listened for the most part. When he did speak, he sounded really tired… which made sense: it must have been a long trip over. But something about that explanation seemed wrong to her, though she couldn't pin down why.

Another part of her was questioning why she was so interested in what was basically her guardian taking on a part-time worker, but she could justify that with the fact this stranger had a criminal record. If he tried anything, Sojiro would need someone to call the cops for him.

'As if you would actually be able to do that.'

'Shut up!'

Stupid voices.

Right then, however, she was listening intently to their conversation as Sojiro was going over the 'house rules' with the newcomer. She needed this stranger's name if she wanted to look further into his past, to find out what exactly he had done. After all, she had taken it upon herself to manage the security of Café LeBlanc, and it wouldn't do to have some scumbag living there…

…

…

…

How long could the old man talk for?!

Futaba Sakura leaned back in her chair in frustration. Sojiro would just not shut up all the rules that came with being on probation, and seemed to be purposefully avoiding saying the new kid's name. If she didn't know any better, the hacker would have sworn he was doing it specifically to spite her.

Aggravated, the orange-haired girl switched off the bug she had planted in the café, and opened up another tab on her computer.

There would be plenty of time to discern this kid's identity. After all, it wasn't like you could go your entire life without having anyone speak your name out loud!

…. Right?

* * *

"You called for me, Principal Kobayakawa?"

Makoto Niijima stood in the principal's office, her hands folded in front of her, her head bowed slightly towards the floor. It was the stance most students took when confronted by the egg-shaped man who ran Shujin Academy, but she wasn't there because of a screw-up or acting out in class.

Still, she believed she would feel far better about the situation if she were.

"Thank you for coming so quickly, Niijima-san." The large man smiled at her, the simple action seeming to require quite an effort from him. "But I guess I shouldn't expect anything less than immediate action from the president of the student council, hm?"

"I… try my best, sir."

"I know you do. Which is actually why I have called you here today." He had another task for her. Makoto had expected as much, but she had been hoping she was wrong: the principal's 'tasks' tended to end poorly for other students. Not that the diligent girl cared about her popularity with her peers, but she was finding it increasingly difficult to justify some of the things she had been 'requested' to do.

"Is this about the new transfer student?"

Kobayakawa nodded happily at her, though, his face did turn downwards slightly.

"Sharp as always. You've no doubt heard the rumors about him. They're a little exaggerated, and I don't know how they got started, but there is truth to them."

"Then… he really does have a criminal record?" Something about that fact eased her mind slightly. Ever since the rumors had started circulating at the start of the week about some teenaged murderer who was going to start attending Shujin, Makoto had predicted that it would eventually come to her to deal with the problem in one way or another.

"Yes, though it isn't quite as gruesome as the student body has come to believe. He was convicted for assault and sexual harassment, and that was more than enough for him to be expelled from his previous high school. However, the courts decided to allow him a chance at redemption, and reached out to Sujin to take him in."

Kobayakawa leaned forward, his chair creaking in protest.

"Truthfully, I do not expect him to… remain here very long. But while he is with us, I need to ensure that the rest of my students are not placed in any danger."

"And that's where I come in?" Makoto asked. She had perked up a bit: this was an assignment she could actually get behind, especially considering her family history.

"Precisely. His teachers will keep an eye on him during class, and I do not expect him to be under surveillance at all times, but should he cause any trouble…" The principal clasped his hands together, and grinned. "You have my permission to intervene at your own discretion."

"Understood, sir." Makoto bowed, and Kobayakawa sighed in relief.

"Thank you. I'll be meeting with him and his guardian tomorrow to ensure he understands the guidelines he is expected to follow. That is all."

Makoto nodded, and started towards the door, before her eyes suddenly widened, and she quickly turned back around.

"Oh, sir! I'm sorry, but what is this student's name?"

Kobayakawa blinked, and then laughed awkwardly.

"Ah, right. How silly of me. Let's see… his file should be… around here…"

Makoto squirmed uncomfortably as she watched the fat principal struggle to bend down to search through his desk drawers. There were several minutes of grunting and shuffling papers, before the principal finally raised his head back up, looking sheepish.

"Er… I can't seem to locate his file at the moment. I'll let you know on Monday, ok?"

* * *

'What have you done?!'

'You killed her!'

'Murderer!'

'No…'

'Get away from me!'

'Monster child!'

'Maternal psychosis…'

'Mom…'

'Suicide!'

'Your fault!'

'I wish I had never Futaba!'

'Futaba!'

'Futaba!'

"NO!"

The chair tilted a bit too far, and toppled over, sending the curled-up ball of a girl huddled in it sprawling onto the paper-covered floor. Her orange hair was tangled all around her like some kind of blanket, and she was sobbing into her knees, though definitely not from the pain of the fall

The one consolation was that the physical shock had driven away those damnable voices.

As expected, a few moments later, there was a loud, rapid knock on her door.

"Futaba?! Are… Are you ok?! I heard a noise…"

It took her a few tries to answer, but the shut-in found her voice before the old man tried opening the door.

"I… I'm fine, Sojiro. I just… got a little too excited. That's all."

A pause… and then…

"Ugh… Try to be more careful, alright? I don't want you to hurt yourself."

"K." She called back, as she stood to set her chair upright. She stopped when she realized she hadn't heard him walking away yet.

"So… you're not going to believe this…" Oh dear gods, he wanted to chat. It wasn't that Sojiro was unpleasant to be around, but Futaba really wasn't in the mood to talk about anything right now… or ever. "The new kid… I told you about him, right?"

"Lives in the attic, criminal record?"

"Yeah, that's him. Brought a cat home with him today."

That caught her attention, and for a moment, the girl's weary eyes brightened, and she turned towards the door.

"A kitty?" She had forgotten to turn the bug at Leblanc back on. This was news to her.

"Yep. Cute little thing; black and white with blue eyes. It kept meowing at him the whole time, almost like it was trying to talk to him or something…" Another pause, as the old man coughed. "You… like cats, right? Would you like me to ask him if he could bring it over here sometime?"

Futaba didn't like cats, actually… she loved cats. She had seen so many adorable videos of them online, especially with how sassy they could be without saying anything! But… how long had it been since she had seen a real one? She'd really like to see this kitty…

'But then they'd have to come in here.'

"N-no… no thank you." Even she couldn't hide her disappointment at her own refusal. But it was just as well… she didn't deserve to have a kitty anyway.

"… Ok, if you're sure." Sojiro sounded just as disappointed, and she could finally hear him start to step away from the door. "Do you… need anything else?"

"No. I'm gonna go to bed." That was a blatant lie: sleep was something she rarely did nowadays. But it seemed to satisfy the old man, as he wished her a good night, and his footsteps faded away.

Futaba moved her chair back into its position in front of the only light-source in her room: the computer. She climbed back up into the chair, pulling her knees up against her chest, and buried her face, waiting for the voice to return. She knew they would: her episodes always lasted late into the night, until she would finally pass out from exhaustion… that way, she couldn't dream.

The whispers started up, sooner than she had anticipated, and she whimpered, hoping they would be kind enough to wait until Sojiro was asleep. That didn't seem to be the case, though, as the accusations began to grow louder and angrier. Even with her eyes closed, the young girl could feel the world around her distorting, changing into… into…

Her phone dinged, and everything stopped.

That… never happened. Nobody ever messaged her. Nobody even knew her number. Not even Sojiro!

Shaking, the girl opened her eyes, and turned her head to the source of the sound. Her phone was on the floor, where it must have fallen after her chair failed its saving throw. The screen was shining brightly, and she could see the message notification even from the angel she was perched at.

It took her a while to build up enough guts to climb down from the chair and pick up her phone. Her hands were shaking as she opened the message, and when she saw what it said, she almost dropped the device again.

 **?:** Are you alright? You seem to be in pain.

Nope. Nope, nope, nope. This was 'beginning-of-a-horror-movie' level shit right here, and Futaba needed no more of that in her life right now. She needed to rework the security on her phone to deal with spirits and _what were her fingers doing?!_

Even as she was thinking of the best way to 'supernatural-proof' her phone, her hands had rebelled from her control and sent a reply.

 **Alibaba:** How do you know that?

 **?** : I could sense it. Your distortion, that is. It's affecting this whole block.

 **Alibaba:** Oh. Sorry.

What the hell was going on?! What was this mysterious number talking about?! And what the hell was she apologizing for?!

 **?:** Don't worry. It's not your fault.

 **Alibaba:** No… It is… I know it is…

 **?:** Why? What do you feel so guilty about?

 **Alibaba:** Mom.

 **Alibaba:** I killed my mom.

There no activity on the other end for a minute or so, and Futaba's confusion in that time faded into pure panic. For some reason, she knew that she needed this stranger to reply to her. If they didn't, she…

 **?:** Who told you that?

Relief. She was typing the responses out herself now. And the words seemed to flow naturally, along with the tears streaming down her face.

 **Alibaba:** The voices.

 **Alibaba:** They won't leave me alone,

 **Alibaba:** They keep telling me that I did it.

 **?:** But did you?

 **Alibaba:** …

 **Alibaba:** I don't know.

 **Alibaba:** I can't remember.

 **?:** Ok.

 **?:** Then I can help you.

 **?:** It'll be tough, but I'll do what I can.

Ok, seriously. What was going on? Any panic, fear, or like emotions had all faded away, and Futaba stared at the screen of her phone in bewilderment, something almost like a smile requesting to be shown on her face. And yet, she continued to respond as if she knew exactly what she was doing.

 **Alibaba:** Thank you.

 **?:** First: what's your real name?

You never give out your full name online or to strangers. That was like, rule number one.

 **Alibaba:** Futaba Sakura.

 **?:** Oh! Well, that's a surprise.

 **Alibaba:** What is?

 **?:** I'll tell you later. It's good to meet you, Futaba. Call me Joker.

 **Joker:** I have school in the morning, but I'll come over right after class, ok?

Wait, what? Come over? How did he know where she lived? Was he some kind of stalker? Was this all some kind of ploy to kidnap her and sell her into sex trafficking or something?!

 **Alibaba:** Ok. I'll leave the door unlocked for you.

 **Joker:** You don't need to, but thanks. If the voices come back tonight, just text me, alright?

 **Alibaba:** K

 **Joker:** Thanks. Now, get some rest. You need it.

Futaba wasn't sure how she got on her bed after that, or how all the junk she had piled on it had been moved onto the floor, but in the brief moment she returned to reality before drifting off into the first pleasant sleep she had in a long time, she was snuggled up in her bed, clutching her phone to her chest.

 **Alibaba:** Night.

* * *

Late on his first day…

Makoto sighed as the homeroom teacher of 2-D, Ms. Kawakami, explained her morning of fruitlessly waiting for the new transfer student to arrive. It was currently lunch, the poor teacher was exhausted, and there had been no sign of the trouble maker.

"Don't worry, Sensei. I'll keep a lookout for him." Makoto smiled at the older woman, which seemed to boost her tired spirits somewhat.

"Thank you, Niijima-chan. But I still don't know what the principal was thinking, assigning him to my class… I have enough to deal with as it is."

"I know, Sensei…" Makoto sighed in tandem with the teacher, then nodded her head as she decided upon something. "You go ahead and go to lunch. I'll wait for him here."

Ms. Kawakami stared at the student president in surprise, and then smiled, standing from the chair she was sitting in.

"I'm not even going to protest. Thank you, Niijima-chan. I leave this in your capable hands."

Makoto bowed, and stepped to the side, allowing the teacher to walk past her and out into the hallway, closing the door to the faculty office behind her. Then, the short-haired girl took her place in the chair, and leaned back, beginning to tap her fingers on the nearby desk.

She hadn't even met him yet, and this new student was already on her bad-side… Not a place anyone would want to be.

Criminal record…

Late on the first day…

Apparently disrespectful to staff…

And to top it all off, Makoto still had no clue what his fucking name was!

Even as all these thoughts were running through her mind, the door to the council room suddenly opened.

"… Well, you're younger than I was expecting!"


End file.
